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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26668675">wind sky and you</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/bystander/pseuds/bystander'>bystander</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>NCT (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe, Fame, Gen, Idols, M/M, Pre-Relationship, child actor, predebut</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 12:29:31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,289</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26668675</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/bystander/pseuds/bystander</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>jeno lee versus the cosmos.</p>
<p>//</p>
<p>celebrity sucks jeno in, but he's not going to let it spit him out.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Lee Jeno</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>wind sky and you</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">when jeno is eleven he is scouted for an entertainment company again. he’s at a tteokbokki stand he likes at a street hear his house, and the auntie that runs it is cooing over him even as the scouting agent forces a business card into his hands. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">jeno puts the card in his backpack to be polite. the agent smiles brightly and waves him off. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">it’s not the first time he’s been approached in the street. he has a collection of cards that he stuffs haphazardly around his house: fantagio, jyp, loen, bighit. he’s still young; jeno knows what it takes to be famous. first, you had to be good-looking, and then you had to be hardworking. and lucky. preferably three. very nebulous traits, and yet he had them in spades.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">jeno wonders what it would be like. he’s doing well at school, the kids are nice to him, and he’s not sure he wants to give that up, to, what, become an idol? he can’t even sing. he shows up on tv now and again and plays games.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">the sun is shining, the birds are chirping, and the tteokbokki is sweet and spicy. jeno taps a rhythm against the meat of his thigh; one two, one two, a flat staccato to mr. simple. he keeps the beat as he steps over the lines in the concrete, counting weeds poking out in the cracks as he goes. twenty-six, seven, eight. he keeps it up until his feet carry him to his local pc bang, and then he jams in headphones and puts it out of his mind.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“kid,” says the director. jeno can’t come up with his name, but he’s famous for leading some drama that boosted korea into the hallyu wave. “you ever think about acting for real? you’ve got potential. here’s my card. call me.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">it’s nearing the last stretch of school. summers in incheon are already hot even before the solstice turns. jeno sits in the second row in the far left, near the window. sunlight warms his skin; the leaves of the tree outside shuffle, shik shik. jeno reaches deep in his pockets and fiddles with a toy while his teacher goes over what to expect for career day. parents and volunteers are already lined up in the back of the classroom. quiet chatter slips over jeno’s head like wind. he blinks.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">they hear from a lot of people. naeun’s auntie is a firefighter and jihyun’s older cousin is a nurse and yui’s mom is a diplomat. then comes a police officer, a pest exterminator. there are a lot of solid options but nothing steals his attention. jeno pretends he’s not doodling pencil sketches on the corner of his desk when the adults start to file out and his teacher begins passing out a sheet of paper.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“everyone,” calls the teacher. she’s very pretty but has a firm voice and the suit skirts she wears to school every day look very nice on her. jeno puts his hands in his lap and listens. “homework for today,” she says, “is make a list of three things you might be interested in being when you grow up. high school is starting soon and it’s good to start thinking if you’re leaning towards sciences or humanities…”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">jeno listens attentively until the bell rings. then he packs his bags. his friend joohyuk asks him if he wants to come over to play games. jeno hasn’t hung out with him in two weeks, so he says yes. they play tekken for a few hours and joohyuk shows him old yearbooks. jeno has a nice time. joohyuk’s mom invites him to stay for dinner. jeno declines and begins the walk home.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">the days blend together like this. soccer season is over, so jeno’s got a lot of free time on his hands. he finishes his homework at home and takes acting classes and once in a while goes to study cafes with his friends. most of his classmates are already biting their lips bloody over college entrance exams three years off into the future. his parents had offered to pay for a cram school, but he did okay without it. near top of his class, usually, even though he hates studying.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">and then there are cf shoots. jeno likes them. it’s a steady routine; on the weekends, or during the week if it’s urgent, he takes a train to whatever studio his mom texts him the address to. he smiles and rides a bike and smiles and takes a study course online and he rakes in checks he puts in a savings account. his parents like the idea of him being responsible with his money. they still give him allowance. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">jeno likes working best during the summer, when he has the day to himself and doesn’t have to excuse himself from class with everyone staring. it’s intoxicating: the frenzy of the studio, static over headsets, marionetting himself into the kind of boy you trust to sell you milk. jeno gets made up and hair styled; when he’s done the staff <em>coo. </em>it’s nice. it’s good knowing that he’s in demand and does good work. he steps in front of the camera and the stars align. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">it’s on the way home from one such shoot that jeno meets his turn in the road. his manager had insisted she take him home, but jeno had just smiled politely until she relented and gave up. it’s honestly amazing his mom had enough free time in his childhood to book jobs and find auditions through her full-time job. as he grew and the jobs piled up, his dad had hired a manager to fulfill the role. his manager is competent and professional, but only thing between them is a contract. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">seoul is an hour’s train ride from incheon, and though he comes to the big city often enough, it never loses its glittering charm. everyone seems in a rush to become somebody. the streets buzz with life and the endless promise of something new.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">jeno is not in a rush. he’s walking aimlessly; after a while he leaves the greater area and chances upon a residential area. it looks similar to his own home in incheon, houses lined up in neat rows and manicured shrubbery.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">eventually he stumbles upon an unremarkable arcade behind a neighborhood shopping center. his own charming face is smiling back at him from an ad plastered on the bulletin board in the corner. jeno steps inside. the stars shift. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“hey,” says a boy. his cheeks are round and his eyes are large. “don’t i know you from somewhere?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">jeno’s parents are the kind of carefree that is, honestly, a little concerning. he grows up with a lot of love and gets properly disciplined, but his parents’ common sense is a little off the wall. case in point: jeno’s parents let him out unsupervised in the sprawling city by the time he’s seven years old. they say it’s good for children to explore and become more independent. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">early on, this results in two police reports for breaking curfew, narrowly avoiding abduction for an underground children’s fight club, and getting stuck in a drain pipe. he tells his parents over dinner and they think it’s hilarious. character building, even. jeno’s parents also let him bring three cats home on three separate occasions even though his mom is severely allergic. jeno is too. it’s genetic. he’d had been running from his eyes and wheezing all the way home. his mom stabbed an epi-pen in his thigh and then they’d gone on a family trip to the pet store to buy cat food.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">so, jeno is kind of weird because his parents are weird, and his parents are weird because they’d also grown up extraordinarily beautiful only children who were never told no. funny how legacies work out.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">it’s too quiet. he’s alone at home and his thoughts bang off of each other onto the walls. like splatter painting, siphoning out the sparks in his brain and dripping down the plaster. he’s finished his homework ages ago. he’s gone through all the books he’s borrowed from the library. he’s wandered into the kitchen twice to eat snacks he wasn’t really hungry for.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">jeno goes out. he has time to kill, so he takes the hour trip to seoul again. it’s comforting already, the way the city folds him in and spits him out, molding him into something larger than himself.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">for reasons he can’t explain to himself, he winds up back into that arcade. takes the bus down three streets, hops off and turns at the strange little statue that looked like an unhappy dog. the arcade is even more unimpressive the second look. it’s more of a half-hearted attempt to entertain the neighborhood children when their parents are out shopping than an actual entertainment center. it’s dingy and dirty. jeno can’t help but like it.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">jeno brushes past the basketball game, the shooting game, the wheel of prizes, the air-hockey table. in the back there is a single ddr machine. more importantly, there is a boy.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">jeno waits until he’s done, legs a dizzying blur of tan skin and bruises on knees pressed nearly black.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">when the boy finishes dancing, the screen flashes AAA in yellow block letters. he pumps his fist, smiling to himself. he turns around, sees jeno held in place by—an invisible force, the pull of the sun, gravity. the boy tilts his head, considering. his moles constellate sweetly on his face. the little dipper.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“i had a feeling i would run into you again,” says donghyuck. “dance with me?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">jeno brings up the subject at dinner. the air is balmy. nal had knocked over a plate earlier and streaked glass shards across the wooden flooring. his other two cats had yowled and ducked under the couch. the stereo cassette alternates between blasting abba and 80’s japanese pop. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“how was school, baby?” asks jeno’s mom. she shakes cheese onto the pasta she’d meal-prepped that weekend. even with her makeup wiped off she is strikingly beautiful. she chews meditatively on some broccoli. “you had that math test?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“it was good. i knew how to do all of the problems. how was work?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">his mom takes over the conversation easily, raising her eyebrows to indicate that she’d appreciate if he shared some more, thank you very <em>much</em>, but chats easily about her veterinary practice: vaccines she’d administered, behavior specialists she’d recommended. there were birds that had come in that day, who had beat themselves against their cages trying to fly.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“it was a wild species,” explains his mom. she looks at jeno’s dad. he nods solemnly. “they’re not meant to be locked up. drives them crazy.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">jeno thinks it would be miserable having wings and not being able to spread them. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">he’s spent the last month rolling his decision around in his head. when he becomes an idol, he won’t stay with his parents anymore. he won’t have these easy nights talking about nothing and eating home-cooked meals. he won’t be able to attend school or meet up with his friends easily. he’d have next to no free time, grinding himself into dust and being remolded anew.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“sweetie, do you want dessert?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“i,” says jeno, “am going to be an idol. there’s an audition this weekend.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">pause. his parents exchange a look. the traditional clock up for decoration in the living room ticks and marks each breath. they can’t have been expecting this; with his cf deals rolling in and early childhood ambitions, acting would have been the obvious choice. as a family, they’d poured so much into it already.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">jeno isn’t sure why he’s making the switch. because of some boy? ridiculous. jeno’s not one for uncalculated risks, but the light in those brown eyes isn’t something he can let go of.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">jeno had always known he’d be famous one way or another. it’s the same in the end. lump sum, he’d be in people’s mouths, eyes, hearts, sucked in with the biting city air.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">jeno’s dad puts down his cutlery. he folds his fingers together. he’s a quiet man, but his eyes are piercing when he speaks. “jeno-yah,” he says. “you know how your grandfather named you, right? strength of a king. you’re meant to stand above others, for better or for worse.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">jeno has to admit to himself that he’s in deeper than he planned. his feet bring him to the han river again near where donghyuck trains, and the dog park there is lovely but not worth the forty minute round trip. they’d exchanged numbers and somehow in the interim had gotten a feel of the rhythms of each other’s lives, learned each other’s favorite foods and pet peeves. jeno has been out more in the past few months than he has in the few years. seoul is bright and lovely, and instead of heading to the street where he takes acting lessons, he takes the bus down two more stops.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“hey,” says donghyuck. “it’s you again!” he’s wearing a simple cotton tee shirt over basketball shorts, young and gangly. the brightness of his eyes is supernova. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">jeno smiles, looking down at his shoes. “it’s me.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“we keep running into each other,” says donghyuck, serious, hiding behind his own private joke. “must be fate.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">donghyuck looks like the kind of boy who believes in fate. jeno is good at reading people, and he doesn’t often like what he finds, even if he never shows it. donghyuck is like every other kid with a dream too big to hold in his body, but he’s got what it takes to make it.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“funny,” says jeno. “did you just come from practice?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“yeah,” says donghyuck. he takes a seat next to jeno, gripping the bench. “technically i’m not supposed to be out, but what the manager doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“is it okay for you to be out this late again?” wonders jeno. he’d been curious about that the last time too. “i thought trainees couldn’t go anywhere without a manager.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">donghyuck turns to face jeno. jeno looks steadily back. “not yet,” says donghyuck. “they’ve got you on a leash once you move in, but i still live with my parents, at least. and they think i’m at practice.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">donghyuck’s under-eye circles are dark, smudges visible under the smoky evening sky.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">the hours pass easily, and after dark neither jeno nor donghyuck make any ndication of wanting to leave. they’ve relocated to some playground with swings so rickety it looks likely to give them tetanus, slurping ramen jeno had bought for the both of them at the convenience store.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">jeno feels like a cog, in starts and stops, trying to articulate his thoughts. he feels young and foolish, and with a boy that shines like the sun he is just a reflective surface.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">the highlight reel:</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“i don’t think i’m very close with my classmates,” confesses jeno. it’s not a thought that he’d every seriously considered until he stopped being alone. “i think we’re being held together by circumstance. as soon as i’m gone, it’ll be like i never existed.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">donghyuck snorts. “duh.” donghyuck brings his hands up to cup jeno’s jaw. it’s overly familiar and crosses all sorts of boundaries jeno sets for himself, but he goes still and doesn’t object. “it’s because you’re so handsome. people are afraid of the unattainable. i know you, jeno lee, but you have to let them give you a chance. they won’t be able to help it, loving you.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">the warmth from donghyuck’s palms bleed into jeno’s cheeks. jeno feels raw, dripping warm and open, a primal part of himself clawing out. donghyuck tilts his head in a half-smile and keeps his hands there. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">part two: </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“i miss jeju,” says donghyuck. clear sky, clear sea, island boy, sunkissed: it’s clear he’s internalized a physical space, made it a part of him. “but i wouldn’t trade this for the world. i’ll fill up jamsil stadium someday. count on it.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">it’s there, sitting so close their sides are pressed together like two pieces of a puzzle, comes the turn in the road. jeno counts the stars in donghyuck’s eyes and gets the beginning of a terrible idea.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">part three: </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“get home safe, jenmoong,” says the boy. he has a name now, but in the end, he is not unreachable. he is still a boy, though one that has wrapped himself around jeno’s heart and made a home of it. the sun is starting to rise. light backlights green trees; shadows to twist through the gaps in leaves, captures ephemerality in cinematographic beauty. “don’t miss me too much.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">their situation is peculiar. they’re thirteen but closer to stardom than most people get in their lives. maybe that’s why they click. there’s more to life than the high of being seen, but it’s the singular driving want that drives them to do what they do. it’s illogical and scary but in their dreams they see flashing lights. the light in the tunnel is a wisp of a dream when you’re grasping alone in the dark. but it’s different now. they reach out and <em>touch.</em></span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">jeno isn’t a big texter, but he finds himself keeping naver open like a promise. in his phone he keeps an open notes app. it lists, in no particular order: 1) buy the nicer cat food for seollie because she’s picky 2) tell his mom he doesn’t need a manager anymore 3) invite joohyuk to his house, for once 4) meet with his teacher to update his future plans and 5) ask donghyuck how to do that one move in sherlock he keeps tripping over.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">his phone pings. <em>kkkkkk you better call me sunbaenim from now on &lt;3 i’ll take good care of you jeno-ssi &lt;3333</em></span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">jeno thinks it over. why does he want to be an idol? he’s been in cf’s, model shoots, acting roles. why is he going to move to a profession in which he has to completely remodel his life: a new school, building performance skills from the ground up? he had a drama role lined up that gotten buzz from the media months before it would even air. he had a knack for acting and was a commercial favorite.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">jeno taps on the flat of his guitar, playing the last chords of shinee’s replay again. it plays clear and sweet. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“welcome to sm entertainment,” says the agent. the elevator shuts behind them with a clink. she’s kind, but her eyes are calculating as she guides him through the building. her heels clack against the shiny linoleum. “it’s up to you if you make it here.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">jeno follows the woman through the hall, only half-listening. the walls plastered with faces of still-breathing legacies. BoA, TVXQ, H.O.T., S.E.S, SHINee, Super Junior, SNSD, f(x), EXO-sunbaenims. all household names, names that are recognizable even though he doesn’t follow their careers. paper, glossy eyes watch him approach the very end of the corridor.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">jeno pushes open the door to the practice room. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">a room of boys swivel their heads around to look at him. they’re all gangly and awkward with youth. sm’s future, fresh-faced and looking exactly like the boys he’d left behind in school. the floors are scrubbed to shining. in the audible hush, all jeno can process is the buzzing of white noise. he has has sight locked in to a round head sitting in the back. eyes that are already locked back onto his.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">donghyuck smiles. the kind of smile that was born to be loved, born to shine on stage.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">he’s the prettiest boy jeno’s ever seen.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“hey. i was waiting for you.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>jeno lee child star speaks to my heart... like there's so much POTENTIAL there</p></blockquote></div></div>
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